But, will I admit that?

My wide eyes of chocolate flicked back and forth, paranoid and cautious. Viviana. Door. Viviana. Door. Viviana. She stared down at me, expectantly, her ocean blues watching me with pure care as she held onto my arms gently, lovingly. The thumbs of her hands rubbing the skin of my upper arm lightly until my shaking form settled down, almost as though we were children again and I hurt myself tripping over a rock. Througout the years, Viviana had made the loss of a mother bearable.

I unknowingly ventured towards and into the memory that itched at the back of my mind always, always, always.

The memory itself was as clear as day, and so was the achingly pitiful voices that flooded my small ears as I attempted to focus on one thing and one thing only. The television painfully close to the front of my younger face had created a reflection in my eyes that burned, and the only thing that stopped me from facing the conversating men was the fact that they would know that I was listening, and so I stayed watching the show.

I left it up to my imagination to paint a picture of the encounter. And, at eight, I had a lot of it.

A week had passed since the funeral. The days were going by slow, and Dad was struggling to do everyday things. For me, it felt as if I had grown up too soon.

Dad stood there, at the door, whispering low to the Alpha of the Ventus Pack. He was already on his third beer, and he had only started drinking just moments earlier. It was a side of him that I'd never ever witnessed before, and in my heart, I knew that Mom did not either. On nights like this, he would let me stay up as late as I wanted, just so that he didn't have to spend time on reading me to sleep. His voice so quiet that he thought, 'No, she can't hear me'.

But, I could. My bottom was planted into the floor, and silently I sang to myself, 'Criss-Cross Applesauce' as I twisted my legs. And, the words that the Alpha spoke to my father lingered and echoed for the rest of my life.

I didn't have to be older to fear it.

"He was caught, and killed. There was no questioning needed. The reason of her death can be easily explained," he paused. "It pains me to admit it, as he is a valuable and respected piece of our history, but the death of your wife has been a problem among many packs that we are going through." The atmosphere turned dreary at the topic, and the feeling of being numb filled my senses.

Dad wanted answers, he begged for them, prayed for them, longed for them. Day and night. Sometimes, he would leave me alone, just for a few measly minutes while he went out to try to find the man again. The time passed like hours. They were always the worst minutes of the day, and I would find myself hiding under the blankets of my bed until he got back. My father pleaded with the Alpha, "Please, I mean no disrespect to you, but I just want to know why he did it. Why my wife? My-My beautiful wife. Please, all I want to know is why?"

"It was nothing against your wife. Wrong place. Wrong time. The rogue that murdered her was a devoted follower of Morpheus."

"A follower?" My father spat out, the answer he craved for was useless to him, and it left him with even more questions. Unsatisfied. Disrupted. Heartbroken. His voice trembled, "My wife was what, some kind of sacrifice?"

"No, her death was not needed, nor is it praised. It was not a ceremony of ours. It was because she was human. There are many today that believe humans still have not paid for what they have done, and the number of them are declining, but there are still followers that religiously believe in Morpheus' view of punishment."

My father could not muster up an answer. Instead, he kept silent, and the Alpha continued, "I'm more sorry than you know. The pack will always be here for your family."

"Emery?" Viviana's ring covered hand floated in front of my eyes, her freshly painted nails folding over into her palm. "Are you okay?"

Almost as though she had pulled me out of a dream, I felt my legs tip forward as my knees weakened, and suddenly the objects in the hallway solidified as they were once before. "You're so right, Viv. You know me more than anyone else."

Viviana's full lips inched up at the one side, and she reassured me, "Emery, you know that I love you. And, you know that if I thought something was a bad idea, then I wouldn't let you do it-" she let out a burst of interruptive laughter, "-well, at least not alone. But, babe, we got all the time in the world. I think it would be better for you and your mate if you talked to him about this."

"You always tell me what I need to hear, and not what I want to hear." My eyes roll back as I smile, and a confession slips past my lips, "I've spent most of my life being terrified of anyone who agreed with Morpheus. And, you've always known that. Yet, you pushed me to be around those who were the same beings as them, and you made me understand that not all of them are bad."

"You don't have to worry about him," she reassured. "That man is whipped. He's always sulking without you here."

I looked back towards the door, and started to walk forward until my hand was levitating just above the handle. Taking a quick glimpse behind me, I spotted Viviana sticking up her two thumbs with a wide, contagious smile on her face. The idea of not whistling and cheering must have killed her. Practically reading her mind, I could hear her voice in my head, squealing, 'They grow up so fast!'. And so, with one last exhale, I slowly opened the door. First, I peeked in through the gap, and noticed Morpheus sitting at a desk, staring down at a book.

The dark locks of his hair fell slightly over his forehead, and his lips were parted as he read, moving to wrap around each word.

But, as if on queue, his ears twitched and he visibly inhaled through his nose. All too soon, he snapped his head up. Nervousness bit at my toes, but I took a step in anyway and watched as he went from heavily concentrated on his reading to completely focused on me.

"What are you reading?" I asked, becoming vocal all the way from the other side of the room, and the only reply I received was the sharp click from the door shutting.

His hand reached out, urging me forward as watched my every move. Memorizing the crease in my skirt. Noting the natural curl of my hair. Outlining each of my facial features. And, for the first time in my life, I felt as though I was art in a fancy exhibit. Morpheus was the critic I never knew I needed.

My heart jumped at the action, and it spun, and spun, and spun until my chest seemed to adopt a permanent flutter. I took another few brave moves forward, hesitating with each creeping step. "Is it interesting?"

"Enough," his tone was low, guttural. The narrowing of his eyes glared at my pace, and impatience started to tear away at his being.

Once I finally came into his reach, both of his arms stretched out to grab my waist and he forced me ahead. My feet slipped against the floor, and I found myself tumbling into him. There was barely any time for even so much of a basic gasp. Half the supplies on his desk was thrown to the side, wiped away with help from my hip and thigh, and the back of my knees came into contact with the edge of the wood. My bottom lip became my victim as I bit down, and chewed unconsciously.

Oh, sugar.

To my right was piles upon piles of files, littered with papers and envelopes so tattered and worn that they were unrecognizable, illegible. "What are those?"

"Letters." He played with the end of a bouncy curl as he answered, wrapping and twisting it around his fingers as he tugged on the tress gently. "From years ago."

I turned my head to try to read the words that were written, but they were too far faded to even possibly be read. "How do you know what they say?"

"Memory," he whispered, leaning into the clump of hair, and sniffing. A tiny grin had formed as I thought, 'Dog'.

"What do they say?" I asked, being nosy, but that wasn't a fault of mine. When you're shy and quiet, everyone tells you everything.

"That is much too stressing to start with." Hmph!

"Is it just too much to explain?" He nodded, lost in the sparks as he drew in and felt the bond itching at his fingertips. "Well, if you were to use your-your mind thing, would it hurt?"

"It is only painful if you resist it," He reasoned. "If you give in to it, then it will not hurt you."

"Can you show me what they say?"

Shock formed instantly, but his expression quickly turned impressed. Morpheus' swirling eyes flicked up to mine, and with a lick of his lips, he told me, "I can show you anything you want."

💕